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I’m upset and annoyed that with all the Nathan drama I didn’t get the chance to celebrate Kerim asking me to join him in business. That should have been such a happy and proud moment for me. I didn’t even speak to Mum about it and Nathan certainly never gave me the chance. He’d probably only tell me it’s because of the fact Kerim wants me and not because I’ve put in so much hard work. I can’t handle being dismissed in that sense, not while I’m feeling so fragile. It’d push me over the edge with Nathan. Our relationship would plummet.
“Hasn’t it already plummeted though?” I ask myself quietly as I sauté potatoes. The hissing sound the butter makes when dropped in the oil is a strangely pleasant sound.
Maybe Mum was right. The last time Nathan held something back from me it was terrible and it wasn’t even about him. I can now rationalise why he didn’t tell me about Caleb. It would have done me no good to know while I was so weak and deeply grieving. This time… what could it be? If he isn’t having an affair then what is it that he’s so frightened to tell me?
I’m told to go on break. I consider it a moment of fate and grasp my phone the first chance I get. Then I scroll down to the text from Mum and look at the three numbers she forwarded with names.
I call the first one before I can convince myself not to.
“Jackson’s office, who’s calling please?” Comes a soothing female voice after a couple of rings.
“Hi there, I’m umm… I’m Gwen and I…” Christ this is stupid. I clear my throat. “I’m sorry.”
“You’ve never done this before?”
“Definitely not.”
“That’s okay, sweetie,” she says, even softer than when she answered. “I’ll talk you through it. What is it you need?”
“My partner has… secrets.”
“An affair?” I hear the phone rattle and it sounds as though she’s placed it between her shoulder and cheek.
“I don’t think so but I’d like to rule that out.”
“Whatever it is, Jackson will find out. He’s not failed yet.”
I can’t believe I’m doing this. “When can he start?”
“I’ll get him to call and talk through his price plans. His phone will ring through as a spam caller. It’s safer that way.”
“I get tons of those PPI guys and accidental injury claims callers. It drives me crazy.”
“Exactly,” she giggles. “It’s the perfect disguise. He’ll call you within the next twenty four hours.”
“Try to get him to push it to the next four; I’m at a theme park all day tomorrow with family, friends and the man in question.”
I hear the smile in her voice when she responds, “I’ll do all I can. Take care, Gwen.”
“Thank you.” I hang up, swallow the lump in my throat and exhale the breath that got stuck painfully in my chest.
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
I escaped from work quickly, still avoiding everyone, and on the way home I popped into my local supermarket to print off a few new photos, one of Caleb included. It took me a long time to decide what picture to choose but I’m happy with the one I have. It’s of Caleb on the beach, not long after he asked me to marry him. He’s holding his hand out to me as I hide behind the camera. I remember it so well, as if it were yesterday. He was so happy, smiling so handsomely as the wind swept his hair across his eyes. The skies were surprisingly blue, making him look as though he were glowing.
He kissed me immediately after I took the photo and pinned me down on the soft sand. That is until a shallow wave came and wet our legs. The tides in Skegness come in far too quickly. We went home happy, in love and extremely soggy.
This is the picture that will sit on top of my microwave.
Blinking back tears, I head towards the underground and hope that I don’t have to wait long to catch the tube home.
Thoughts of where Nathan stayed last night assault me. My paranoid brain paints pictures of him and that girl at the sandwich place. Maybe he sought her out?
No. I’m not turning into Nathan. He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t hurt me that way. This is all something so silly and simple. I just know it.
I weave through a crowd of people as I descend the stairs, the stench of sweat, urine and burning rubber helping to keep my thoughts to myself.
The underground has always made me extremely nervous. I keep my bag tight to my front, so tight my arms ache. Luckily everybody seems as distracted as I did moments ago. You can always tell who the frequent underground people are; they look unfazed by it all. They can stare at their phones as they jump onto the trains without even looking at the maps and information boards. The rest of us, with chattering teeth and fear of thieves and catching the wrong trains, move slowly and carefully like prey about to enter an open field.
